


I Have Control!

by The_Sherlocked_Shadow



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: And he can be caring, Desperation, Douglas Richardson has a heart, Gen, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Turbulence is a real pain, Watersports, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:42:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Sherlocked_Shadow/pseuds/The_Sherlocked_Shadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the seatbelt light is turned on,<br/>and wind and rain are upon...<br/>What Martin needs,<br/>is a simple release,<br/>but the walk to the loo is too long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Have Control!

Martin shifted uncomfortably, flashing a glance towards his watch.

"Pressing date tonight, is it?" Douglas intoned.

Martin looked at him. "Pardon?"

"You keep glancing at your watch every two minutes. Either your memory is getting worse by the second or you've got something on your mind that's time sensitive. Which is it?"

Martin looked back to the controls. "I certainly don't have a date."

He hated to admit it, but turbulence always made him nervous. When the seatbelt light clicked on for everyone else, it didn't give the pilots express permission to walk about as they pleased. Sure, they _could_... It just wasn't good practice.

Martin was always in good practice with his flying. He always tried to do things correctly- as the rest of MJN knew- but sometimes, he was caught short.

Like when it was a rather bumpy flight and Martin had had three cups of coffee to stave off hunger and exhaustion and the seatbelt light was on.

There was a pulsating pain low in his stomach, curled around his bladder as the coffee that he'd drank demanded to be released. He couldn't do much about it; he was flying the plane for goodness sake. Douglas could take control, but Martin really didn't want him to. Besides, the seatbelt light was on. No one was allowed out of their seats, pilots included.

"Job tonight?"

Martin glanced at Douglas again. "What?"

"With Icarus. Are you delivering something?"

"No," Martin said, confused. "Why are you asking?"

Douglas sighed. "Because you're fidgety, Martin. I love to watch you attempt to dance the can-can while sitting down as much as the next person, but it tends to to get on one's nerves every once in awhile."

Feeling his face flush, he uttered an apology. Mentally berating himself- _you have more control than this, Martin!_ \- he settled himself down for the seatbelt sign to click off, for the air to become less... painful.

Twenty minutes showed no sign of anything, really, except terrible pain and the undying urge to go to the loo. He fidgeted a bit, wincing as his seatbelt dug into his bladder.

"Really, Martin, what is it?" Douglas said shortly.

Martin jumped, looking at him again. "What?"

"You're not listening to a word I'm saying. I suggested that we play _whose flight is it, anyway?_ and you blatantly ignored me. What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," Marting replied quickly.

"Martin," Douglas said, in his pompous all-knowing tone of voice.

"There is nothing wrong, Douglas. Really," he said, trying to put a bit of conviction into his voice.

If Douglas figured this out... Martin thought he might die. The humiliation of squirming about because he needed the toilet so badly made his hands tremble with shame, but Douglas actually figuring out _why_? The notion was horrifying.

Douglas raised an eyebrow. "Alright." He didn't sound convinced. "Captain Picard."

Martin closed his eyes briefly, trying to focus on the game and not on the urge that was growing worse with every second. "Star Trek. I'm not sure that counts."

"Spaceships fly; therefore, it is a _flight_. Well done, you have some sci-fi knowledge. Your turn."

"Smaug," Martin said a bit huffily.

"That's a dragon, Martin."

"It flies!"

"Yes, but it isn't flying a vess- oh, alright. The Hobbit."

Their game continued. Martin's urgency increased. The turbulence turned into a rainstorm and GERTI trembled with the force of an impending volcanic eruption.

Martin groaned quietly as a cramp seized his middle. He had to wait. He couldn't do anything about it, so he had to wait. He pressed his fingers against his thigh, pressing his knees together tightly.

"Why didn't you just say that you have to go to the loo?" Douglas quipped suddenly.

Martin felt his entire face flush. His ears felt hot, his neck was burning, and he didn't want to see his face. Panic and humiliation, shame... It all welled into his tormented body and brought tears to his eyes. He blinked them away quickly.

"Really, Douglas, it hardly matters," he murmured, desperately trying to hang onto a sense of pride that he wouldn't be squirming around like a five year old desperate for a bathroom break. "The light's been on for over an hour and we've got turbulence here."

"Given the fact that you can't deny your body forever, it think it rather does." Douglas paused. "ATC said that we're in the clear in ten minutes."

"I heard," Martin said, keeping his gaze on the controls.

"Does Sir, in all his great power, expect to be able to wait until our seatbelt light clicks off or would he ask that I finish off my drink?"

"How does that connect?" Martin asked, frowning.

"Empty cup," Douglas said in explanation. As Martin's face flushed again, Douglas rolled his eyes and continued. "Come now, it's not as though I've never done it before-"

" _I_ haven't!" Martin interrupted.

"- and you have nothing that I haven't seen before. You know that Carolyn will be, well, pissed," Douglas said, sounding amused, "if you have an accident in the captain's seat."

"I am not going to have an accident," Martin said tersely, tensing his thighs. "And I'm not going to..." he trailed off. "Relieve myself," he supplied, "in your styrafoam cup of Pepsi."

"There wouldn't be Pepsi in it if I finished it."

Martin shook his head fiercely. "No. I'll wait. I can wait."

"Whatever you say." Douglas paused. "You know, I think it might rain in Hong Kong..."

"Douglas!" Martin protested.

This was why it was dangerous for Douglas to know. Douglas teased him about _everything_... and knowing that he dying for the loo would be no exception. Of course not.

"Sorry, sorry," Douglas said, although without sounding apologetic. He just sounded amused. He was silent for a few minutes. "I just know how you despise landing on wet tarmacs."

Martin groaned. "Douglas, please."

Martin didn't miss the smirk, but instead focussed on tightening his muscles and kneading his fingers against his thigh.

It wasn't long after ATC had predicted that the seatbelt light clicked off.

"There you go, Martin!" Douglas said cheerfully. "You can finally get the seatbelt off of your pulsating bladder."

"Stop talking about it!" Martin demanded, throwing off his seatbelt. He sighed heavily in relief, placing his hand gently against his stomach. "That's better..."

"I would imagine so. You should have another ten minutes before the loo's vacated. Shall I shoo everyone out of the way of our all so important captain?"

"Gosh, no," Martin murmured, letting out a shallow breath. "It's bad enough that you know. Don't want anyone else to."

"So you have to piss. Everyone does."

"Yes," Martin agreed. "Even Sky Gods. So don't push your luck," he muttered, more under his breath.

"I would _love_ to hear your halfhearted attempts at teasing me if I ever get into such a situation- a situation that is highly unlikely, I might add, as I have no inhibitions about whipping it out and letting loose."

Urgency swelled with Douglas's words and Martin felt himself suddenly shoving his hand into his crotch admist a trickle of urine escaping into his boxers. A slight whimper built in his throat. No, please, no, not now. Ten more minutes.

"Martin?"

Martin blinked away tears, one of which rolled down his cheek.

"Martin," Douglas said again.

Douglas's hand landed on Martin's shoulder and he squeaked, another dribble escaping the confines of his penis.

"Martin, it's alright," Douglas said, sounding uncharacteristically caring. "It happens to everyone. _Martin!_ "

Martin forced his eyes open, trembling. With relief minutes away, Martin felt so close to the edge that he was sure he was going to topple. He was hanging on by a thread, but his urgency had tipped to unbearable.

"Douglas..." he mumbled.

"What do you want me to do?" Douglas asked.

"I can't hold it..." Martin whispered, frantically trying to still have control- over the plane and his pelvic muscles.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Douglas said. "Look, Martin, I'll take control, you... do what you need to."

"What??" Martin asked, relinquishing his flying control and shoving both hands between his legs. "I can't... I can't..."

"Relax," Douglas advised.

Something landed in his lap and Martin jumped, looking at the blanket that Douglas had just thrown into his lap. Not understanding, Martin looked at Douglas as another wave of desperation shattered his control.

"So no one else will know. You've been staying rather hydrated, I believe, so otherwise, it'll be our little secret."

Warmth soaking into his boxers freely, Martin wrenched the blanket over his lap. He had just spread it across his lap in its entirety when the floodgates broke and piss soaked immediately into his pants.

Whimpering slightly, Martin squeezed his eyes closed and tried to tune out the rest of the world as his body betrayed him, urine quickly soaking into his boxers, uniform, and most likely, the seat. He tried to focus on anything, _anything_ , asides from the fact that he was wetting himself with Douglas Richardson sitting five feet away.

When his trousers were soaked (but the damage hidden by the blanket), Martin opened his eyes with a flaming face to face the rest of the world. He shifted uncomfortably. Immensely relieved but humiliated all the same was a strange combination. He dreaded looking at Douglas. He dreaded doing _anything_ except curling up and letting a hole open up in GERTI that would make him disappear.

"All better?" Douglas said, almost as cheerfully as he had sounded a few moments ago.

Martin swallowed. "Y... Yes..."

"Good to hear," Douglas continued. He pressed the button for the zapcom. "Arthur?"

_"Yeah, Douglas?"_

Martin tensed, staring at Douglas with pleading eyes. Oh, please don't mention this, don't tell anyone, please-

"Can you bring up some paper towels? The coffee spilled and it's rather a mess. I know you're busy with dinner, but just pop by and we can handle it."

_"Sure thing, Douglas! Do you want more coffee?"_

Martin blanched at the thought of more of that terrible diuretic. Douglas seemed to notice, smiling sardonically.

"No. Not at all, thank you."

Arthur dropped by with some paper towels, to which Douglas handed to Martin without a word once Arthur had left. Martin took them with hands that were still shaking and tried to sop up the mess that was his own urine.

Douglas never so much as made one snarky comment.

When they landed, Martin snuck off to the loo to change his trousers and joined Douglas, Carolyn, and Arthur on the tarmac.

"Well, that flight was certainly a rush, wouldn't you say?" Douglas asked, humour twinkling in his eyes as Martin stopped next to him.

Martin glanced up at him, flushed, and became interested in re-tying his shoes.

"It didn't help that it was so warm in the flight deck," Douglas continued.

Martin didn't know if Douglas was trying to tease him or if he was just hearing things. Still, he focussed on shoestrings.

"I think my shirt was actually damp with sweat at one point."

Martin cleared his throat, standing. "Yes, can we get to the hotel? I'm tired and it looks like it's going to rain."

"Ah, yes, rain," Douglas said. "Hong Kong could do with a good drenching, don't you think?"

Martin shot him a dirty glare and Douglas laughed quietly.

"Yes, let's crack on to the hotel," Douglas continued. "A few of us could do with a hot shower and a good night's rest."

Knowing that, given that he would be sharing a room with Douglas, he was going to have to put with countless snarky remarks, Martin eagerly started to the car with the idea of a hot shower looming in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> For all of the Sherlock watersports, there aren't many Cabin Pressure watersports fics. And really, Martin is always the perfect person to pick on.
> 
> I do not own Cabin Pressure, nor Star Trek, nor The Hobbit.
> 
> (Yes, shameless references to Benedict. I would say I'm sorry, but I'm not.)


End file.
